


Meet the Adaars

by CherryMilkshake



Series: Who would have thought you'd be a big softie? [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Meeting the Parents, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Romantic Comedy, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryMilkshake/pseuds/CherryMilkshake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the defeat of Corypheus, Inquisitor Adaar is hopeful that things at Skyhold will be relatively at peace. </p><p>And then he gets a letter from his mother. Who is amused by the <i>ridiculous</i> rumors that he's dating a Tevinter mage. </p><p>Dorian doesn't find them quite so ridiculous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet the Adaars

**Author's Note:**

> This is incredibly self-indulgent and writing it made me want to make Mama Adaar as a new Inquisitor. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Edit: I got DAI for the PC, and [I made the elder Adaars in the character creator](http://cherrymilkshake.tumblr.com/post/140298640374/because-i-obviously-have-nothing-better-to-do-with).

Inquisitor Bernart Adaar had thought that the defeat of Corypheus would lead to some manner of peace and calm. 

He'd understood that that was a naive thought, but he was unprepared for _how_ busy Skyhold would become after the closing of the sky. From morning 'til night it seemed, he was meeting with some important, puffed-up human, or making an appearance in such-in-such place for such-in-such reason, or authorizing the movements of agents and troops, or discussing diplomatic measures and potentials with Josephine. Or writing letters. Oh, Maker, there were _so many_ letters. When his parents had taught him to read and write, he'd never thought he'd have to use those skills to address the Empress of Orlais or the Kings of Ferelden and Nevarra or, _Andraste's tits_ , the Archon of Tevinter of all places.

 _That_ had been nerve-wracking. He must have drafted it three times just for wording, then another four for penmanship. And even then, he suspected Josephine had rewritten it in her own hand for the sake of neatness. He'd signed up to close a hole in the sky and to beat up an ancient darkspawn magister, not to be a politician. 

One saving grace was returning to his room at the end of a long day to find Dorian sitting in their bed, reading. It had taken some doing, cajoling Dorian to move his things up here, but in the end, he'd understood that it was one of the only ways to make sure they even saw each other most days.

Bern groaned as he tossed his clothes to the floor and crawled into bed, wrapping his arms around Dorian's torso. Dorian chuckled as he reached down to card his fingers into Bern's hair. "Close the curtains," he said. "You're letting in a draft."

One of Dorian's demands of the shared room had been a four-poster bed, to keep out the chilly mountain air. Bern had never slept in one prior to that, but he had to admit, he liked how cozy it was. He flopped upright and closed the curtain, wrapping them into a little world of red.

Dorian had a small orb of light sitting on the edge of his book to read by, but he waved it up to hover near the canopy to give Bern a kiss. "Hello, amatus," he said sweetly. But it was soon marred by a smirk. "You got a letter."

Bern groaned theatrically and rolled onto his face. "No," he said petulantly into the pillow. "I refuse to deal with any letters until morning."

"Really?" Dorian said, holding up the envelope. "Because it says it's from Meraad Adaar, and I'm dreadfully curious as to who that is."

Bern snatched the letter from Dorian's hand, taking his face out of the pillow so he could see it properly. It was indeed marked as being from his mother. He sat up and turned around, tucking the pillows up behind his back, broke the seal and opened it. Dorian obligingly lowered the light to help him read, so Bern decided to read it aloud. 

"Inquisitor:

"I was delighted to hear that title bestowed upon a child of mine. I and Father followed your progress very carefully, though silently, and we wished to send you our congratulations on a victory well-won.

"We have heard strange gossip regarding your personal life, but we consider most of it amusingly unlikely at best. According to rumors, you have slept with most of your companions, even the women (which I know to be quite unlikely), as well as perhaps the former Grand Duke of Orlais and a man called the Champion of Kirkwall. (I read that book you left me, about him, so that seems equally unlikely.) 

"I have to say though, the rumor about the Tevinter bas saarebas was especially amusing. You are many things, but you would never be so foolish as to endanger yourself like that.

"With your permission, Father and I would like to visit your fortress. And meet this Iron Bull I have heard so much about. It is always good to speak to another Tal-Vashoth who saw Seheron through the eyes of the Qun.

"Panahedan.

"Mother"

Bern had chuckled as the rumors of him sleeping with Gaspard and Hawke, but… He stared at the letter in his hands.

"What is a 'Tevinter bas saarebas'?" Dorian asked, his voice heavy with knowing, even without understanding the words.

"A 'saarebas' is a mage. 'Bas' is a not-qunari, which you, probably already knew," he answered automatically, stumbling as Dorian's expression darkened.

"Just making sure that did indeed refer to me. Glad to see she finds the idea so foolish. I sorely needed an angry qunari mother in my life."

"She's not angry," Bern said, sighing as he set the letter aside. He pulled a grumpy Dorian into his arms. "And she won't _be_ angry. Probably. She just… doesn't trust mages."

"Ah yes," Dorian said sharply, even as he curled into the curve of Bern's chest. "Where she's from we are hobbled and treated worse than dogs because of _dangerous_ we are. How could I forget?"

"She wasn't arvaarad, one who watches over a saarebas," Bern said, unsure of what would comfort. "She will likely fear you enough to leave you alone. …Or else seek to defend me from you." He winced.

"Yes, perfect. That is _exactly_ the sort of reaction I want to provoke from my lover's parents," Dorian grumbled. "With my very existence even. I'm so impressive."

Bern pressed his lips to the crown of Dorian's head. "My parents are not unreasonable people, Dorian. Come on, kadan, let's go to sleep so that I don't wake up to Cassandra and Cullen literally dragging me out of bed to meet with one of Josephine's guests again."

Still holding Dorian to his chest, he slid down, tucked the pillow under his head and horns and let his exhaustion carry him to sleep.

\--

Bern wrote back the next day, wholeheartedly inviting his parents to come and visit Skyhold. Dorian was being moody, which didn't surprise him, though it did worry him. Dorian had said he was still planning on returning to Tevinter "sometime". If his parents (okay, his mother) managed to scare him into following through on that plan sooner than Bern was prepared for, he didn't know how he would hold up. 

He certainly wouldn't break down like a maiden losing her first lover—he was adult enough for some modicum of control (he told himself)—but sometimes Dorian's sarcastic commentary about the various dignitaries and the mundanity of the favors they asked was all that got him through the day without screaming in frustration. He didn't like the idea of being without him.

At a short break in the day, Bern sat at his desk and began composing a different letter, more of a brainstorm really. Across the top, he wrote, in large, underlined letters, "Mother, he is important to me and I will protect what we have from anyone and anything. Including you."

\-- 

It was impossible for the Adaars to arrive unnoticed at Skyhold. Two adult qunari astride large Ferelden workhorses, and a qunari _woman_ to boot. It was a wonder the rumor mill didn't explode from sheer volume.

Meraad Adaar was a striking figure, with tall, spiraling horns and dark gray skin marred by pale scars. Her white hair was braided into a thick rope down her back. Behind her, Aban Adaar, her husband, seemed almost a shadow. He resembled his son greatly though, in his close-curling ram's horns and dark hair, and his light gray skin dotted with freckles. He too was battle-scarred, but they did not stand out as harshly on his flesh, giving him a much milder appearance.

Bern met them in the entrance hall, where people had pooled around them, leaving a wide berth. He embraced them both tightly. "It is so good to see you," he said thickly. "How long has it been?"

"Four years, I believe," Meraad said. "Four years since you left for the Marches to join the Valo-Kas."

"Four years," Bern repeated softly, before hugging her again. "Four years."

Meraad ran her hand over his horn, following it up and around to cup his cheek. "Kadan," she said gently. 

Bern smiled at her and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "Kadan," he returned.

Aban put an arm over his son's shoulders, knocking their horns together amiably. "You have grown, kadan." 

"Only my horns," Bern laughed. "Perhaps you've shrunk in your old age?"

"I hope I'm still many years from _that_ ," he grumbled. "Now, will you show us your fortress, Bern? It was impressive from the entrance, but we would like to see within."

"Of course," Bern said warmly. "And I will of course introduce you to my companions. We should start with my advisors. I know Josephine is very excited to meet you. Fair warning, she may ask you complicated questions about Qunari culture."

"I hope she realizes we left it for dissatisfaction," Meraad said, raising an eyebrow. 

Bern made a helpless hand gesture. "I tried to make that as clear as I could." 

"Very well," she said with a nod. "Let our tour begin."

\-- 

Upon entering Josephine's office, she gave the little group a wide smile and pulled Bern aside for _just one moment thank you_. In the corridor leading to the war room, she gripped his forearms and stared up at him with wide, frantic eyes. "They're _early_ ," she whispered loudly. "How can they be early?! You _said_ they were coming in from the outskirts of Highever."

"Yes?" Bern didn't understand her upset.

"That is a week's journey, even traveling quickly. How did they arrive here in five days?"

"Packing lightly and sleeping in shifts?"

"While riding?!" 

Bern nodded. "One person sleeps in the saddle while the other leads their horse."

Josephine rubbed her temples. "And I suppose you didn't think to warn me of that."

Bern made an apologetic face. He did that a lot around Josephine. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you would be so concerned."

"The banquet won't be ready for _three days_. We are terrible hosts." She was quickly spiraling into full-blown panic. Bern took her shoulders, steadying her.

"Josephine, it's my parents, not Orlesian dignitaries. They're not expecting anything except a bed to sleep in."

She sighed. "You know them best, I suppose." She sounded reluctant to calm down. "I'll make sure their room is prepared after introductions."

"Excellent. Now come, aren't you just bursting with questions that you didn't want to ask Bull?"

She perked up a little. "I suppose I am." She pushed open the door and gave them both her best diplomat smile. "So sorry for the wait. Pressing matters, you understand. I'm Josephine Montilyet." 

\-- 

Bern was surprised to find Dorian missing from the library. And the garden.

He had hoped to find him in the tavern, but no, the only people there were Cabot, Maryden, Sera, and of course, Bull and his Chargers. Meraad was indeed very excited to meet Bull. 

"Shanedan, The Iron Bull," she said warmly.

Iron Bull smiled, some sort of tension lifting from his shoulders. "Shanedan." 

Their conversation, with Aban joining in, quickly fell into such complex Qunlat that Bern couldn't follow. They were discussing Seheron and the new Arishok, as far as he could tell. He wandered over to sit beside Krem, drinking from his mug. "I don't suppose _you_ can understand anything they're saying," he said. 

Krem laughed. "The only words I know in Qunari probably shouldn't be repeated in front of your mother, Inquisitor."

He snorted and held out his mug to toast. "Here's to parents refusing to fully teach you their native tongue," he said.

Krem knocked his mug against his. "I'm always here to toast to frustrating parents," he said with a laugh. "So, Bull mentioned them meeting the boyfriend may not go well. How'd they take it?"

Bern sighed. "I haven't seen Dorian at all today," he said quietly. "He's not in any of his usual places."

"I'm sure he'll turn up," Krem said, patting his arm. 

"Yeah," Bern said glumly. "Mysteriously, right after my parents leave." He mimicked Dorian's voice. '"Oh, so sorry I missed them. I'm sure they were _most_ disappointed to not meet the mage sleeping with their son.'"

Krem raised an eyebrow. "That was downright uncanny," he said admiringly. "You have a talent. Do the Chief."

Bern smirked, happy for the distraction. " _Taarsidath-an halsaam_ ," he growled in Bull's voice.

Krem laughed so hard he fell out of his chair. "Chief!" he called. "Chief, you have to hear this! The Inquisitor's been holding out on us!"

Everyone at the bar got a kick out of Bern's impressions. He even did a passable Sera. But even the warm atmosphere of the tavern couldn't completely lift the unease from his heart.

(Sera drunkenly staring at his mother and blurting out how pretty she was, before scampering up the stairs to her room in embarrassment, almost did. But only for a moment.)

\--

After a quiet dinner, with the promise of a banquet in _two_ days' time from Josephine, Bern asked his parents to wait in the main hall while he went upstairs to check one more place for his elusive mage.

And sure enough, when he pulled back the curtain of the bed, he found Dorian surrounded by a scattered pile of books, his leg bouncing nervously as he looked at Bern like a cat caught hiding under a cabinet.

Bern sighed out of his nose. "Dorian," he said gently. "Have you been here all day? Or just since you heard the commotion of my parents arriving?" 

Dorian made a face. "Which answer would you prefer?"

"I would prefer you come down and at least say hello. Though I will not force you if you really don't want to." He swallowed, his words suddenly sticking in his throat. "I haven't… I haven't told them about us yet. If you want, I won't." He gripped the bedpost he was leaning on. "But you are important to me, and I want to be able to share that with them."

Dorian sighed and slid a bookmark into his book. "The calf eyes are so unfair. You know that, don't you? You just _know_ that if you look at me like that I lose all resolve, no matter how much of a good idea it is to have."

Bern smiled brightly, kissing Dorian as he climbed out of the bed. "Thank you," he said, embracing him tightly. 

"You're welcome, you're welcome," he grumbled. "Now come on, am I meeting the parents or not?"

Bern still sensed reluctance, and caught Dorian's hand as he began to go toward the stairs. "Is it really okay with you that I tell them?"

"Honestly? I'd prefer not. But I've never told my parents about any of my partners. I'm not really sure how to do this 'close, loving relationship' thing."

"I won't if you don't want me to," Bern said sincerely. 

"But you'll be upset with me," Dorian said.

Bern wrapped him up from behind, resting his cheek on Dorian's head. "No, kadan. Only with your parents, for instilling such discomfort in you."

Dorian put his hands on Bern's arm, leaning into the embrace. "It _would_ rather stick it to them if we told your parents, wouldn't it? It would really establish us as a couple."

Bern smiled into his hair. "It rather would, I think."

"Then it's settled. We shall tell them."

"I can always count on your love of spiting people," Bern said with a laugh and one last kiss. "Come on, kadan."

\-- 

"Sorry for keeping you so long," Bern said as he opened the door to the stairs. He held Dorian's hand in his tightly. "There is one more person for you to meet before I show you to your room for the night."

Meraad looked Dorian over with a careful gaze, then focused on their clasped hands. Aban's eyes followed hers.

"So this is the Tevinter, I assume?" she said calmly. "I was wondering when we would have the pleasure."

Bern felt Dorian's hand twitch in his grip, but his voice was steady as he looked up at Meraad. "Yes, I am indeed from Tevinter. Dorian of House Pavus, at your service."

She continued with the niceties. "I am called Meraad. This is my husband, Aban."

"Bern has told me much about you," Dorian said. "Only good things, I assure you."

"I would hope."

"Mother, Father," Bern said. "There is a reason I wanted to introduce you."

Meraad frowned. "It doesn't have to do with that rumor, does it?"

Bern smiled a little apologetically and raised their clasped hands. Dorian tensed, probably wishing for a staff.

Meraad stepped closer to the two of them, straightening so that she loomed over Dorian as much as she could. She glared at him silently, as if sizing him up. Dorian pushed his shoulders back, raised his chin, daring her to act.

"Kadankost," Aban murmured, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We will talk."

Meraad sighed and let him pull her away. "You said something about our room?" she asked.

Bern gestured to a nearby servant and asked him to show them to prepared balcony room. "Good night," he said, hugging them. "We can talk more tomorrow."

"We shall," Meraad said firmly. "Good night, kadan."

Only after the door swung shut behind them did Dorian sag in relief. " _Venhedis_ ," he breathed. "I believe I now understand what it's like to stare into the eyes of a hungry lion."

"That went really well, actually," Bern said. "She didn't go for her weapons or anything, and she backed down almost immediately."

Dorian gaped at him. "You were expecting her to go for weapons and you didn't even stand in front of me?"

Bern laughed. "I didn't think she'd try and stab you or anything! Just threaten."

"She doesn't need a weapon for that," Dorian grumbled. "Her horns look like she files them to points!"

Bern cocked his head to the side. "She might actually do that," he said thoughtfully. 

"Great," Dorian mumbled. "Just great. Let's go to bed, amatus. I'd rather get through the inevitable nightmares of being skewered on your mother's horns sooner rather than later."

Bern kissed his forehead. "No one's going to skewer you."

"I might borrow your armor, just in case."

\--

The next morning, Bern had breakfast in his parents' room. After the first round of food had been eaten, Meraad set down her utensils and gave her son a purposeful stare. "So," she said. "The Tevinter. I think both Father and I would like an explanation."

Bern sighed and chewed on a piece of jerky. "I'm not bespelled, Mother."

"And how would you know that?" she asked sharply.

He covered his face in both hands, bowing over the table. "Mother, please. He doesn't practice blood magic. He very _vehemently_ does not practice blood magic."

"He's a Vint," she scoffed. "They all do."

Bern was not a man quick to anger under normal circumstances, but insulting those he held dear was one way to draw his ire. All the speeches he had carefully prepared dissipated into smoke in the face of his rage. "Dorian doesn't," he said in a sharp, low voice. "Trust me."

Meraad hesitated. "Kadan, this is what they do," she said gently, reaching for his hand. "They wrap you up in pretty words, pretty lies, and then they use your life for sacrifice."

Bern leapt to his feet, shoving the table away. "You will not slander a man you do not know, a man that I love, because of old prejudice," he growled. "I will not stand for it."

Meraad stood to match him. "And you say you are not enthralled," she growled back. "Uplifting a saarebas before your own mother." Her voice grew louder. "And the prejudice is hardly old! Seheron is a battlefield to this very day!"

"But you are no longer a Qunari!" Bern snapped. "What does it matter to you who the Qun's enemies are?!"

Aban took his wife's arm. "Kadankost," he tried, but she cut him off, whirling on him.

"'Kost' yourself! This is our child, I will not see him manipulated like this!"

"Kadan, please," Aban said gently, reaching up to pull her back into her seat. "He is an adult. He has been on his own for a number of years. He is the leader of a powerful company. He can care for himself. Trust him."

Meraad refused to be mollified. "Let me talk to the Vint. Alone," she said through clenched teeth.

"Why in the world would I let you do that?" Bern asked. 

"I will not harm him. I want only to talk."

Bern frowned and crossed his arms. "Only if Father is there with you." Aban had always been the more reasonable parent. Bern could trust him. 

Meraad looked at her husband, who nodded encouragingly.

"Fine," she said shortly. "In the garden in one hour." She stalked out of the room, probably to try and walk off some of the roiling energy in her blood.

Bern sighed and touched his father's arm. "Father, you'll keep her from hurting him, won't you?"

Aban smiled. "As if you will not be there unseen, listening to every word." But his expression sobered. "I promise to protect his body, but I'm sure Mother is going to test his mind."

Bern nodded. "I'm sure she will. But Dorian is smart. I don't think he has much to worry about."

Aban made a noncommittal noise. "I will go keep an eye on her," he said, gesturing at his wife's retreating back. "I'll see you soon."

\--

"You want me to _what_?" Dorian practically shrieked. "She'll kill me. You know she will!"

"My father will make sure she doesn't. I made him promise." He stopped short of telling Dorian that he would be there as well. A small part of him was just too curious as to what Dorian would say about him when he thought him out of earshot. "And you'll be in the garden. If a fight breaks out, it's not like no one will notice."

Dorian groaned, pressing his knuckles into his eyes. "Fine. Since you've already agreed to it. Let me go make myself presentable." He grumbled curses under his breath as he went over toward the washbasin. 

Bern liked watching Dorian get ready in the mornings. It was was one of his favorite things about them sharing the space. It hadn't taken Bern long to notice that the routine calmed Dorian. He was a man who enjoyed his habits.

He clearly needed that calm now. He stood before his little mirror, shaving the evening's stubble from his cheeks and chin, before opening the jar of wax beside it, using it to set his hair. He curled the ends of his mustache around his finger, turning his head to make sure it was even. Then he wiped his hands clean with a towel and lined his eyes with a dark pencil. Bern still didn't understand how he did it so quickly and without blinking. 

Only then did he dress. 

When he finished, Dorian let out a great sigh and looked at Bern. He held out his arms. "I'm ready. Take me to the gallows, amatus."

Bern chuckled and leaned down to kiss his nose. He smelled of the fragrant oil he mixed with the wax, his scent flowery and musky at the same time. "You will be fine, Dorian. There's no need for dramatics." 

"Tell that to my corpse when your mother is done with me."

"Oh hush." Bern put his hands on Dorian's shoulders and steered him toward the stairs. "You are a handsome and powerful mage. Even without a staff, I'm pretty sure you could escape if you absolutely had to."

"You are the most amazing ray of sunshine, did you know that?" Dorian said dryly. But he allowed Bern to guide him down to the door and out into the main hall. 

Bern kissed Dorian goodbye at the garden door, then cloaked himself and followed him at a distance, settling himself in the shadow of the balcony as Dorian met Meraad and Aban in the gazebo where he and Cullen usually played chess. Dorian sat across from her in his usual seat. Aban stayed back, leaning against the fence like a bodyguard.

"Pavus, wasn't it?" Meraad said. 

Dorian nodded. "It was indeed, though I would prefer if you used my first name. Being called by my family name just brings up unpleasant memories of primary school. How shall I address you? Ser Adaar?"

"I'm no knight. Meraad is fine."

"As you wish. So, Bern said you wanted to talk?"

"I just want to get to know you better." There was something of Vivienne in her smile. Bern frowned.

"I am a proverbial open book," Dorian said, spreading his hands wide. "With a few of the more private pages torn out."

"Well then," Meraad said. "Who made the first move in your and my son's relationship?"

Dorian had to think about it. "The flirting was mutual. I can't actually remember who made the first pass. Very likely it was me."

Bern was pretty sure it had actually been himself. They'd met under pretty stressful conditions on Dorian's part.

Dorian was ticking things off on his fingers. "I kissed first. A bit impulsively, after a very difficult day." He looked up at the ceiling of the gazebo as he continued, avoiding Meraad's stare. "I proposed the beginning of our physical relationship. But Bern is the one who asked for it to go beyond that."

Meraad raised an eyebrow. "After the physical relationship began?" 

"Yes, ma'am," Dorian answered.

"I see. So, how did you do it?"

Dorian blushed horribly. "Do w-what?"

"Bespell my son without his noticing. I presume you used sex as distraction, but he would notice blood on the sheets. Unless you blindfolded him?"

Dorian and Bern frowned at the same time. "I did not ensorcell your son. Except with my natural good looks and charisma, of course."

"Really?" She leaned back in her chair. "Because I and Aban heard a great many rumors of you and our son, and very few were flattering to you."

"As one would expect, considering we were battling against a darkspawn who insisted on calling himself a magister and who led an army of extremists trying to 'restore' the Imperium of a millennium ago. But you'll notice that said darkspawn is now dead and we're working with the Archon to eliminate the remaining extremists from the Magisterium and other positions of power." 

"Would it not be faster to return to Tevinter and eliminate them yourself?"

"I can't very well walk into the Magisterium and murder people. I don't know about elsewhere, but in the Imperium, it takes a bit more finesse than that. Besides, Bern doesn't want me to leave, and I'm weak to his pleading." Dorian smirked.

From his hiding place, Bern covered his eyes, a blush burning on his ears.

Meraad pushed on, her voice deadly cold. "Forgive me if I have trouble believing that a high-born Tevinter mage just 'decided' to help a qunari man overthrow a magister and just 'happened' to become his lover."

Dorian leaned back and rested his foot on his knee, knitting his fingers together. "Then I don't know what to tell you, because that is what happened. My old mentor joined an extremist cult and invited me to join. I objected and joined the Inquisition instead, which just so happened to end up following a qunari man. A very handsome qunari man who just so happened to be interested in a very handsome human man like me."

Meraad didn't seem convinced. "And there's no bad blood, considering your country has been at war with Qunari for centuries?" 

Dorian met her doubtful stare with steel. "He doesn't follow the Qun and never has, and neither he nor I have ever set foot on those battlefields. The actions of our respective ancestors have no bearing on how I feel about him now."

Meraad glared. "You are very good with your words, I must admit. But that doesn't mean any of them are true."

"If you're going to assume I'm lying no matter what, then why talk to me at all?"

She ignored his response. "Does he make you happy?"

Dorian smiled. Maybe this interrogation was winding down. "Yes, of course."

"And what would you do, Tevinter, if my son were _un_ happy, if he wished to leave you?"

Dorian went very still and Meraad smirked, clearly thinking that she'd caught him. His voice was solemn when he answered. "Just what kind of answer are you expecting, I wonder. 'Oh yes, I would drug him and bind him with blood magic and force him to stay with me forever'?" He shook his head. "I would be upset certainly, but he would have every right to do so." His voice dropped lower. Bern had to lean precariously over the railing to try and hear. "He was always rather too good for me anyhow."

There was a moment of silence, before Meraad leapt up and tried to grab him, yelling about how he was manipulative and false before Aban got his arms up under hers and pulled her back. Dorian had scrambled out of the chair and was half-crouched near the gazebo entrance, sparks dancing at his fingertips. Bern had leapt over the fence and was standing nearby, glaring at his mother.

"Kadan," Aban said gently. "I don't think he was lying."

Meraad thrashed in his hold. "I refuse to believe that!" Her raging dissolved into Qunlat, words rolling off her tongue. Bern picked up plenty of _saarebas_ and _Vint_. Aban looked at Dorian and nodded his head toward the door. Dorian nodded back and quickly made his way back to the main hall. Bern jogged ahead and perched himself beside Varric at the fireplace.

Varric looked over at him with a raised eyebrow as he heard Dorian come in soon after. 

Bern looked at him sidelong. "I've been here the whole time they were talking," he explained.

"Mm hm," Varric said doubtfully. "Just remember that eavesdropping is a terrible habit, Inquisitor."

Dorian sighed loudly to make his presence known and perched himself on the arm of the couch beside Bern. 

Bern smiled. "You're not skewered, I see," he said brightly.

"It was a damn near thing! If your father hadn't been there, I shudder at what would have become of me!" 

Bern put an arm around Dorian's waist, nudged his head against Dorian's chest. "I'm sorry about her," he said quietly. 

Dorian sighed again and reached down to skritch Bern's short hair. "Stop making it so difficult to be angry at you," he grumbled, but his touch was soft. 

Varric was making gagging noises. "Andraste's tits, both of you stop mooning. We're in public."

With a wicked grin, Bern swept Dorian into his arms, holding him so that Dorian's head and neck ended up draped gracefully over his arm, very close to where Varric was trying to work. Dorian smiled at him upside-down. "Are we distracting you, dwarf?"

Varric stuck a piece of scratch paper to his face.

Dorian, not to be outdone, swept a bunch of papers from the table onto Varric with a wave of his hand. Bern laughed at the two went back and forth, squeezing Dorian tightly so that he didn't drop him by accident. 

Eventually, the antics were abandoned, but Dorian stayed sitting in Bern's lap, head resting on his shoulder as he read over some of Varric's first draft of _This Shit is Weird (working title)_. Bern was trying to forget how disappointed he was in his mother. It wasn't working out very well. Whenever he remembered he was trying to forget, he remembered again. He wondered where she was. Drinking maybe.

"Felix wasn't technically dead when we saw him in that future," Dorian said, handing Varric back the papers. "He was a living corpse, or something like it. His eyes were open and he breathed, but there was nothing behind his eyes."

"That's… creepy," Varric said.

Dorian nodded. "Very much so. That Alexius was a broken man." His tone was even, but Bern felt him tense up against him and leaned down to press his lips against Dorian's head. 

"I should go find my parents," he said quietly. 

"Have fun with that. I think I'll stay as far away from that as I possibly can." Dorian got up and stretched, groaning as his neck popped. "Up for a game of cards, Varric? We may be able to convince Cullen to join us if we keep the Lady Montilyet out of it."

"Sounds good to me." Bern waved as the two of them headed over toward Cullen's room, then sighed, steeled himself, and made his way back to his parents' room. 

Which was empty. Dammit, where had they gone?

On a hunch, he tried the tavern. Sure enough, both of his parents were sitting with Bull in his corner, the sharp consonants and long vowels of Qunlat a low burble underneath the usual tavern chatter. Overhead, Bern saw Cole, legs dangling, his head tilted as he listened—whether to the words being said or the hurts hidden underneath them, Bern didn't know. 

When Bull spotted him, he raised his hand in greeting. "Hey, Boss. C'mere. Your mom has something to say."

Meraad scowled, but she stood and set her mug down behind her on the chair. "Bernart," she said. "I apologize for my behavior. Father was right; you are a grown man, and are no longer in need of mothering. If you trust the…" Aban gave her a warning look. She made a face like she was swallowing bitter medicine. "If you trust Dorian Pavus, then I must trust in you."

"It helped that The Iron Bull has been telling us of your relationship from his perspective," Aban added, as Meraad sat back down to moodily gulp down the last of her ale. 

Bern raised his eyebrows. "I thought you didn't like Dorian, Bull. That was always the impression I got, anyway."

"Just because I personally think he's pompous and needs to be taken down a peg or five doesn't mean that he's disloyal to you, Boss. He would throw himself—and has thrown himself, repeatedly—into battle to protect you. I saw that when we burst out of that rift at Adamant. If you'd delayed thirty more seconds, that fool would have dived back into that demon hellscape to pull you out himself."

Before Bern could respond, Bull put an arm around Meraad's shoulders and smiled. "Now then, we were discussing healthy alternatives in expressing that sometimes-violent desire for control."

Andraste's tits, his mother was blushing. And his father looked intrigued. _Nope nope nope._

Bern left the tavern, shuddering. If Bull slept with his mother, no, his _parents_ … He stopped that thought vigorously in its tracks and hurried back to the mural room where Varric usually set up smaller card games. It made it easier not to expect to see Solas when they walked inside.

Dorian, Varric, Cullen, and Cole were playing Wicked Grace. Cullen's cape was already folded neatly in the center of the table. The wicked gleam in Dorian's eye indicated that he was angling to get Cullen down to at least his skivvies by the end of the night. 

Bern snorted and walked around the table to peck him on the cheek. "I think you're safe now. At least from my mother."

He fetched himself a chair and sat down. Varric dealt him in. 

"What did you say?!" Dorian asked. "Because I tried honesty and a general air of rationality and nearly got killed."

"I doubt you seemed all that rational to her, Sparkler," Varric said idly. "Scary Tevinter mage, remember?" He wiggled the fingers on his free hand.

"Actually it was Bull who put in a good word for you," Bern said. He arranged his cards. It was a pretty good hand, but he kept his expression carefully blank. "You should thank him later."

Dorian blinked in genuine surprise. "Well then. I suppose I shall. Do you think I should give him a gift as well?" He looked around at the table.

"Handful of red hair, lips swollen from kissing, body flushed and pliant," Cole put in. "He likes the lady who works as a waitress on busy nights."

Dorian sighed. "Cole, I can't get him a person." He pushed a couple silvers into the pot. 

"You could teach him some weird shit in Tevene to annoy his lieutenant with?" Varric suggested, raising his bet.

Dorian raised his eyebrows. "That's actually not a bad idea. Maker knows he likes to pick on the poor fellow."

Cullen was quietly scrutinizing his hand and the growing pot on the table. Bern caught his gaze and shrugged, keeping his bet light. Let them all think his hand was bad.

Twenty minutes later, Cullen had lost his shirt and Bern was wearing his cape with a grin. It was too small. He didn't care.

"I think I'm going to quit while I'm ahead," the commander grumbled. 

"Aww, but we were having such fun." Dorian put on a theatrical pout.

Bern graciously returned his cloak so that he wouldn't lose his nipples to the cold. The shirt however was hung from the ladder against the wall, until some future time when Cullen could win it back. 

Varric and Cole wished everyone a good night and left to go to the tavern. Bern almost warned them to stay away from Bull's room, then groaned in anguish when he remembered why he would've wanted to. 

"Something wrong?" Dorian asked, eyebrow raised.

"I don't want to talk about it," he moaned. "Suffice it to say, if Bull tries to call me anything but 'Boss', please zap him."

"What in the world?"

Bern covered Dorian's mouth with a hand. "Just let me get through the next few days, then I'll tell you. If you don't end up guessing."

Bemused, Dorian agreed to leave the matter alone for the time being.

" _Now_ ," Bern said, putting an arm around Dorian's shoulders and smirking. "Josephine's banquet is tomorrow and I sense she'll be having me help prep things all day, so, shall we retire for the evening, kadan?"

Dorian chuckled. "I was wondering why you let Cullen go so easily."

"What can I say? I'm impatient."

"Well, then we should get moving."

\--

Bern hated being right sometimes. Sure enough, from sunup onwards, Josephine had him assisting with the last minute preparations. Nothing like the Inquisitor's presence to encourage people to work harder. He wasn't sure if it was more his title or his size. It seemed to depend on the person in question.

Dorian attempted to help a bit, but he was mostly useless; whether by nature or by design, Bern couldn't quite tell. 

The fact that Bern saw neither hide nor hair of his parents until well into the afternoon did nothing to clear his mind of images of more of the Iron Bull than he had ever wanted to see. And the fact that his mother was near _smiling_ when he saw her enter the main hall? He nearly fled to go retch in peace. He had come to terms with the fact his parents had sex. They'd lived in a small home, after all. But sex with the Iron Bull? Nope. Oh Maker, why had he even strung those words together in his head? They were coming this way, shit!

"Hello, kadan," his mother said warmly. Aban nodded his head in greeting.

"Afternoon," Bern said. It took all his self-control to keep his voice friendly and level. Thank the Maker for Josephine's guests giving him ample practice. 

Meraad and Aban stayed around while he helped move tables and direct servants and delivery folk. Bern was pleased see that his mother really had mellowed out significantly (though he was still determined to forget _why_ ).

Still, she fell into helping him direct, her presence sending a burst of energy into the people working. Aban stood near the fireplace, chatting amicably with Varric. They made an amusing picture, qunari and dwarf, made more amusing by Varric's stories and Aban's dry replies. 

Bern sighed happily when Meraad passed by on her way to keep a close eye on the people delivering the drinks, briefly squeezing his shoulder as she brushed past him. It was nice spending time with his parents again. He hadn't realized how much he had missed them. 

\--

The banquet went fantastically. Bern had never really seen his parents interacting with a large group like that before, and he was surprised that his normally-taciturn father became quite talkative during parties, telling stories in tandem with his wife. 

Dorian leaned over, his hand on Bern's arm. "You have your father's smile," he said quietly. Bern grinned and pulled him close. Meraad's eyes were on them, appraising but not hostile. Bern met her gaze with a smile.

\-- 

A few days later, as their visit was winding down, Bern decided to invite his parents to come along on a simple rift-closing mission. His ultimate goal was to get his mother from "tolerates Dorian's existence" to "actively gives her blessing". And knowing Meraad's warrior spirit, the bonds formed in battle seemed the best way.

Dorian thought he was being naive, but ultimately agreed to play along. "I have come to accept that you are the rare specimen of man known as an 'optimist'," he said, rolling his eyes and setting aside his book to join Bern in bed. "Personally, I think 'tolerating' is a victory in and of itself, but that isn't the sort of attitude that led to Corypheus's defeat, is it?"

Bern grinned and kissed his nose. "Exactly. I'll get her to like you yet."

"I don't have to present her with some sort of dragon-related gift, do I?"

Bern laughed. "She would be impressed, but I don't think it will be _necessary_."

"But a good plan B," Dorian pointed out. "I'll keep that in mind."

\-- 

The rift was out in northern Ferelden, along the way back to Highever, so his parents agreed to come help him close the rift as a way of him kind of walking them home. 

As such, they took their time on the trip. Even Meraad had to admit the usefulness of magic when Dorian kept up a barrier over their supplies one rainy day, making sure their kindling was dry for the night. 

Bandits kept a wide berth of a company of three qunari, so the journey to the rift was (disappointingly for Bern) largely uneventful. The usual wolves and occasional bear trying to get at the supplies barely even registered as threats anymore, not when Bern was there to head them off and Meraad to practically launch them into the sun with a swing of her greatsword.

When their map showed them about a day out from the rift, and they had settled around the fire to eat, Dorian asked both Meraad and Aban, "I've heard Qunari warriors name their weapons. Do yours have names?"

Aban smiled at his wife, who indulged him with a small one of her own. "Yes," he said. "Though in my case, only one of my swords is named. The one for my off-hand is replaceable." He pulled his main sword from behind his left shoulder and held it to the firelight. It was silverite, almost white with how much it gleamed, despite its battle scars. "This is Meraad. It had a different name once, but now it is Meraad."

Meraad removed her greatsword from its sheath and lay it across her lap. It was blue-black obsidian. "Mine is Aban."

Bern caught the gleam in Dorian's eyes that meant he was genuinely moved. "You named them after each other," he said softly. "That is… Remarkably saccharine, and yet…"

Bern nudged Dorian with his shoulder and held up his own main hand dagger. It was forged from stormheart, its color shifting with every flicker of the fire. A tassel of braided silk hung from the end of the hilt. "I don't suppose you knew I named my blade as well?"

Dorian raised his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you named it Dorian," he said.

Judging by the expectation on his face, Bern was almost sad to say no. "No, its name is Peacock." 

Dorian looked confused. "Why that?"

Bern put his dagger away, feeling a blush creep up his ears. "Sometime soon after we came to Skyhold, I came across a Tevene dictionary. And I looked up your name. I couldn't find anything for 'dorian', but 'pavus' meant 'peacock', so." He scratched at his face, staring intently at the fire. "When we went to Crestwood and I saw the stormheart down in the cave for the first time, I knew it'd be perfect."

" _That's_ why you were so excited to see it?" Dorian looked taken aback. "But Crestwood… We'd only been flirting at that point. We hadn't… done anything. I wasn't even sure what to make of you yet!"

Bern half-covered his face. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Damn parents and Dorian thinking their weapon naming conventions were sweet. Andraste's tits, they were even watching this. Bern wished desperately for a distraction. "I'm a bit… single-minded, I guess," he mumbled. 

"The thought of a casual relationship didn't even occur to you, did it?" 

He covered his face. "Not for very long, no." 

Dorian was speechless, which Bern normally considered a victory, but when his father was smirking at him from across the fire and his mother looked some mix of amused and annoyed, it felt embarrassing. 

As if picking up on Bern's discomfort, Dorian continued talking. "In everything I've learned about the Qun, which is admittedly very little, I was under the impression they did not have female warriors," he said, addressing Meraad. "Did you take up the sword after you left?"

Bern smiled a bit, sending Dorian a grateful look from behind his hands. Meraad meanwhile took a deep breath and sat back, stretching. "No, I've always been a warrior. Under the Qun, people are bred and raised, like any other tasked creature. After birth, a Tamassran raises a number of children together, and evaluates them for potential. And from a very young age, I was marked as a warrior. I was strong, had a good body sense, quick reflexes, and I could take orders. However, yes, fighting does not fall under what women do. But since I was so clearly a warrior, it was obvious to my Tamassran that I was aqun-athlok."

"That's what Iron Bull calls his lieutenant, isn't it?"

Meraad nodded. "Yes, Krem is _actually_ aqun-athlok. But I was not, not really." She sighed, picking idly at her armor. "Still, you do not question your place in the Qun. I was no priest. So I became a man, joined the military, was assigned to a commander. In that company, I met Aban." She smiled at him. "We were fast friends. I distracted the enemy with a loud voice and a big sword while he crept around and got them in the back. It worked well.

"We went to Seheron. The Iron Bull was all too correct is his assessment that that island is a sack of cats. But it did do one thing good. I was able to meet the locals of Seheron, and the women who have taken up arms to defend their home and families. I had never even entertained the thought that it was possible to be both woman and warrior. And from that seed of doubt, greater doubt blossomed, until one night I decided to leave and see for myself if it were true. Aban caught me, and rather than turn me in, he decided to come with me."

She smiled at him, and he took up the story. "We traveled to the Free Marches," he explained. "It was nearby, and I had heard that the human cultures there varied so much that it would be easy for us to discover if gender's connection to role was really as important as we had been taught. It was difficult, mentally, to do. We often wondered if we should go back, turn ourselves in for reeducation. But I was too proud of my mind. I did not want to see it destroyed by qamek. Nor did I want to see Meraad destroyed that way. The latter was perhaps more important than the former."

Bern smiled at the way his parents looked at each other. When he was younger, he'd found it gross, but knowing how that expression now felt, he found only gladness in his heart. 

Meraad decided to wrap the topic up. "Long story short, I discovered what it meant to be a human woman and decided to adopt some of those lessons. We crossed the sea into Ferelden to put that much more space between us and Par Vollen. Originally we lived near the Korcari Wilds, but when the darkspawn began to appear we moved north toward Highever. The region wasn't exactly peaceful, with the trouble with the Couslands, but we lived far enough away that it wasn't a problem. And that's the whole story." She took a long drink from her waterskin, and if Bern was reading her right, she was a bit embarrassed, despite her even tone.

"I thank you for telling me," Dorian said. "It explains quite a bit about Bern, knowing what kind of people raised him."

Bern smiled at him.

"Well, Dorian," Aban said lightly, reaching down to toss more wood on the fire. "I think we've earned some of _your_ no-doubt fascinating background. You mentioned a mentor? What about your parents?"

Dorian made a face, but Bern gave him an encouraging nudge. He sighed and leaned back. "It began 30 years ago, in the city of Qarinus. Halward Pavus and Aquinea Thalrassian, bound in hateful matrimony, finally had a little boy. There was much celebration, both for their new heir and the fact that they now could retire to separate bedrooms."

"Dorian," Bern said with a wry smile. "We don't have all night."

" _Fine_ , I will sacrifice the art of fine storytelling, just for you, amatus. Skipping ahead past the years of youthful debauchery, I was found in a… house of ill-repute by Magister Gereon Alexius, who decided to take my young, talented-but-squandering-it self under his tutelage. I was grateful for the opportunity to study magic apart from my less talented peers. In truth, the Alexius estate in Asariel became my real home, for a time. Moreso than the 'home' I'd left behind in Qarinus, at any rate. It's amazing how much the atmosphere of a place changes when the lord and lady of the house actually enjoy each other's company. 

"I began work at the Circle at Minrathous, thanks to Alexius' sponsorship, and spent holidays back in Asariel. My parents were happy I was doing things they wanted of me, and I was happy to be far away from them.

"However, that changed about seven years ago, when Alexius' wife was killed on the road by a darkspawn attack, and their son Felix was inflicted with the Blight…"

Despite his promise of brevity, Dorian ended up talking quite a long way into the night. Some of it Bern had known, but not all. When Dorian described how his father had all but imprisoned him at the Qarinus estate for months as he prepared for the blood ritual, Bern reached over and stroked Dorian's back. His voice was steady as he spoke, but his skin was clammy to the touch. Bern added more wood to the fire. 

"And that is why I do not practice blood magic," Dorian finished. "And I think that's where I'm going to leave the story. Bern can likely fill in the rest." Bern offered him a waterskin, from which he drank readily. 

Meraad was frowning. "That you were treated like that by a person whose purpose is to care for you." She hesitated. "I may not have had a father, but I had a Tamassran, and I know what he tried to do to you was absolutely foul."

"Thank you," Dorian said.

"I suppose, for a man from Tevinter, you are not horrible," she said reluctantly. "You did your best to make the right choices. And you found your way to my son's side, where you make him… quite happy."

Bern beamed. 

"I said 'for a man from Tevinter'," she grumbled, her eyes on the fire. 

"Just admit that you like the boy, Meraad," Aban said with a snort. "Our son could have done considerably worse."

She frowned. "Never."

"Come on, Mother," Bern needled, grinning. "Just say it once, for me."

She sighed loudly, casting her eyes heavenward. " _Fine_. Despite the fact you are a mage, a Vint, and overfond of your own appearance, I do not dislike you, Dorian Pavus."

Bern cheered and kissed Dorian's cheek. Aban laughed as he rubbed his wife's back in comfort, her cheeks dark with embarrassment.

Dorian smirked. "Does this mean I can call you both kadan?" he asked.

"Do so and I will slice your pretty robes to pieces," Meraad growled.

Bern stroked his chin in thought. "Now that's a picture. Some artful tears across the chest and hips… Looking rugged and battle-worn, bronze skin peeking out with a bright sheen of sweat…"

" _Fasta vass_ , your _parents_ are right there!" Dorian's face was bright scarlet.

Bern laughed. "They don't mind. They like you after all, right, Mother?" He gathered the flustered Dorian into his arms and pressed their cheeks together.

She grumbled at them in Qunlat while Aban chuckled.

\-- 

The next day, they closed the rift. The demons were almost comically weak, no more than a few shades and a wraith or two. Between the four of them, they made quick work of them, and Bern sealed the tear with a wave of his hand.

"So this is what you do, kadan?" Aban said with a chuckle. "Journey for a week for fifteen minutes' work?"

"Sometimes," he said, laughing. "But usually a crisis that _desperately_ needs my attention pops up while on route. It's rarely this quiet."

Aban put a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed. "Then I hope you have a safe journey back. I hope you know that you can always visit, should you wish to."

"Thank you, Father." Bern gave him a hug. "I will probably take you up on that pretty soon. It depends on how quickly Skyhold drives me up the wall."

Aban smiled and patted his back, before backing up so Meraad could say her goodbyes.

At first, she said nothing, just wrapped her arms around her son and held him. "Panahedan, kadan," she murmured against his forehead. "And you, Dorian Pavus," she said louder, pulling away to glower down at him. "If I ever have reason to suspect you have hurt my son, I will skin you alive and wear you as a hat."

"Mother!" Bern groaned. "Really? _Still?_ "

She patted his cheek. "Forever, kadan. Forever."

Aban smiled and shook his head. "I think sometimes we misnamed ourselves," he said as Meraad went to check on their horses. Bern snorted. " _Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun_ , is the saying," Aban added to Dorian. "It's part of a very important verse in the Qun."

"'The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless,'" Bern translated. "But it is truly my mother who is the unchanging one." He sighed in seeming frustration, but his expression was fond.

"I suppose it's too late to change it," Dorian said.

Aban smiled. "26 years is a bit too late, yes," he agreed. 

Meraad was seated on her horse. "Come, Aban. We must go."

Aban nodded to her, and then, surprising everyone, pulled Dorian into an embrace. "You are a good man, Dorian. I hope to meet you again soon." He pulled away and mussed Dorian's hair. "You should write. You seem the sort of man to write fascinating letters. Farewell."

Before Dorian could even process what had happened properly, both qunari were on their horses and well on their way back to the outskirts of Highever.

"Well," Bern said after a long moment. "My father certainly likes you."

"Should I actually write to him?" Dorian asked distantly.

"Yes, definitely. We may succeed in getting my mother to admit her liking you yet!" Bern smiled and put an arm around Dorian's shoulders. "And it would be a good way to head off any rumors she'll be seeking out to discredit you."

Dorian sighed, but slipped his hand around Bern's waist and tucked his fingers into his belt on the other side. "I suppose there are worse things than my having to write letters to your father. _You_ could have to write to _my_ father, after all."

"Maker's balls, I'll take the Archon, thanks."

Dorian laughed, the unabashed belly one that smudged the kohl at the corners of his eyes. It was already racoonish at the edges, travel making it difficult to properly maintain. Bern thought it made him look rakish. "Come on, amatus," Dorian said after a moment, still chuckling now and again. He dabbed at his eyes. "Let's get back to Skyhold and take a long hot bath."

"Together?" Bern leered.

"Of course. Waste of good bathwater otherwise." Dorian sniffed primly and went to adjust the pack on his horse.

"Ah, of course. Because you are ever the pragmatist, Mr. I'm-Always-Cold-But-Maker-Forbid-I-Wear-More-Than-One-Sleeve-in-Skyhold."

"No idea what you're talking about. I'm never cold in Skyhold. I have a big warm heater there, after all. Better than any fireplace." He pulled himself up into the saddle. Bern admired the lines of his legs and ass. "Come, come, amatus. Talking about baths is making me crave one."

Bern patted his horse's nose before climbing up onto its back. "You realize we're at least two days out, right?"

"All the more reason to hurry."

Bern chuckled and turned the horse to face the distant Frostbacks, looming blue and purple on the horizon. "Then let's go, kadan. I'd hate to keep you waiting."

\--

4th Kingsway 9:42 Dragon

Dear Aban Adaar,

I hope you're doing well. Varric and I currently have a bet going. Five sovereigns on how long it takes Bern to decide that there's something somewhere that absolutely needs his personal attention so he can escape the fearsome iron grip of Ambassador Montilyet. My bet is on three days from now. Varric is of the opinion he will make it to the end of the week. 

I admit an advantage. I see Bern walk into his quarters each night and immediately scream into his couch cushions. In fact, that is what he is currently doing as I write this. Something about an Orlesian ball he has to attend in two days. I suspect Josephine's been drilling him on etiquette again.

Again, I have an advantage in this bet. I know how this will go. The ball is going to end, Bern is going to return to Skyhold, corner Leliana until she coughs up something for him to do, and then it will be he and I, plus Cassandra and Varric, off on some silly adventure. I am certainly not complaining. While I enjoy the amenities of Skyhold, there is something to watching your son in his element. It is obvious that mercenary life suited him. It saddens me a little to know he will not be able to get that back. He is simply too famous now. For all the right reasons, of course. But still, it is a bit sad.

He is coming now to bed, so I will wrap this letter up with the promise of another to follow soon.

Best Wishes and Panahedan (is this the correct word?) 

Dorian Pavus

\--

7th Kingsway 9:42 Dragon

Dear Aban Adaar,

A brief letter since I must be off soon. I just felt you would want to know that I won the bet. We are off to investigate the possibility of new rifts opening up on the Exalted Plains, so I will likely not see your reply with any swiftness.

Best Wishes and Panahedan.

Dorian Pavus

\--

18th Bloomingtide 9:44 Dragon

Dear Aban,

If someone had told my younger self I would someday be regularly writing to my male lover's father in friendly correspondence, I would have laughed in their face. And yet here we are.

I had a lovely time spending First Day with you and your family. It was… nice being with a family again. I don't think I've had such a pleasant First Day since I stopped spending them with Alexius and _his_ family in Asariel. I would say that I hope you found my presence as pleasant, but of course you did, I'm excellent company.

I do have another purpose for writing you however. I understand that the Qunari of Par Vollen do not marry, but obviously you and Meraad did, so I was wondering if perhaps you could ~~help me~~ ~~assist me in~~ ~~give me some advice for~~ share with me how you proposed. If you did at all, I suppose. If there is some nascent family tradition, I would be happy to carry it along.

Also, do Qunari believe in auspicious dates? Or is that too superstitious for them?

Just out of curiosity, of course.

Do write back soon.

Dorian

\--

12th Justinian 9:44 Dragon

Aban,

He said yes. 

(And loved the enchanted stormheart rings. I must thank you in person for that soon.)

(More in-depth letter to follow. Bit busy for the moment.)

Dorian

**Author's Note:**

> Some Qunlat translations for you:  
> "Kadan": heart (not exclusively romantic)  
> "Shanedan": respectful greeting; literally, "I('ll) hear you"  
> "Panahedan": goodbye; literally, "take refuge in safety."  
> "Kost": peace  
> *"Kadankost" is one I coined. However, Fenris says to the Arishok, "Arishokost" which he translates as "Peace, Arishok". So "kadankost" is a pretty logical construction meaning "peace/calm yourself, kadan".  
> "Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun": Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless. There is nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun. (Found in the Qunari Prayers for the Dead.)


End file.
